


the ball is life, but you are life-er

by saitanma



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Humor, HyungHyukBingo, M/M, hyungwon: your average horny tennis-playing second year, minhyuk: the cool third year volleyball prince with the braces and the thousand fangirls, sports AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 05:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15187454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saitanma/pseuds/saitanma
Summary: Minhyuk’s smile widens as he lets go of Hyungwon’s hand. “I take it you’re the captain?”“Vicecaptain, actually,” he corrects. (It’s a lie. Hyungwon lies when he comes into contact with cute boys.)Jooheon gives him a look, then hisses under his breath, “dude, what the fuck, we don’t evenhavea vice cap—“Hyungwon slaps his teammate’s shoulder to shut him up, all the while maintaining a tight smile.We do now.(Alternative summary: Hyungwon can’t control any of his balls.)





	the ball is life, but you are life-er

**Author's Note:**

> for the sports square <3 this fic will have two parts in total!
> 
> disclaimer: the only sport i play is mariokart, so i know next to nothing about how to play volleyball or tennis other than what i've seen in, uh, educational japanese cartoons. i did research quite a bit, so hopefully i didn't write anything inaccurately!
> 
> (also, if you happen to read weeb fic, the next update will be sort of delayed since i'll be focusing on the bingo first c: sorry for the extended wait!)
> 
> happy reading!

Hyungwon had _every_ right to complain.

He had already done his pre-game ritual. He had downed half a bottle of blue bolt gatorade, shined his designer tennis shoes to near-perfection (the olive green stripes on its sides were practically already fading from the amount of times he had rubbed his shoes with a rag), and poked his teammate Jooheon’s dimples for good luck. It was obligatory that he do this before _any_ game, be it a practice match or a legitimate tournament—and once he did it, there was no pulling him out of the zone.

He had even already been in position. He had been standing on his favorite side of the court (the right one, bleachers’ view, because it was his good side for pictures), narrowing his eyes at his opponent, Hoseok, another teammate. His knees were bent; he had one hand holding the green ball and the other gripping the racket tightly, waiting for the whistle signalling his time to serve.

But of course, the universe just _had_ to decide to rain on his parade. _Literally_.

The whistle blows when he feels the first drop of rain land on his nose. It startles him from his focused state just the slightest bit, but he brushes it off as merely a bead of sweat, even though the sky had already gone dark for some reason (it was three in the afternoon), and he wasn’t wearing his visor today.

“What’s taking you, Wonnie?” Hoseok yells from the other side. He was already twirling his racket in his hand—a sign that Hyungwon must have been warming up for too long.

He wipes the drop of water off his nose quickly, then breathes in deeply. He winds back the racket whilst throwing the ball in the air, timing it perfectly for him to be able to serve it to his opponent forcefully and (hopefully) within bounds.

It turns out to be the most _impeccable_ timing ever, if he would say so himself—not because it was forceful enough to throw Hoseok off, or because the ball managed to land within the lines, but because the exact moment his racket comes into contact with the ball, the rain progresses from a single raindrop to an _extremely heavy downpour_.

Hoseok shrieks and runs away from the ball, covering his head with his hands even though it didn’t really do much to help.

He faintly hears Jooheon drop his clipboard, but he can’t really tell if he’s right because all he hears is the thunder and the sound of the rain as it thumped against the pavement. He can see Hoseok frantically running to the covered bleachers, and he figures he should do the same, but he had been taken by complete surprise by the sudden downpour, he could do nothing but stare in shock as the water drenched his hair and his clothes.

“Hyungwon! What the _fuck_ are you still doing there?” Jooheon screams, distressed. He pulls at his hair in irritation. “Take cover!”

Hyungwon snaps out of his daze at the sound of Jooheon’s shrill voice. _Yeah, what the fuck am I still doing here?_

He makes a run for the bleachers, shielding his head with his racket (which he later on realizes was probably the stupidest thing he’s ever decided to do given the fact that rackets _had holes_.) He hugs his chest with his other arm to try and avoid getting more wet than he already was, but a part of him was already painfully aware that all his efforts were in vain, because his clothes were already _soaked_ to the very last thread.

Once he steps under the shade of the bleachers, Jooheon immediately drops a towel on his head, demanding that he sit down next to Hoseok, who was shivering wrapped in his own towel. “Are you _dumb_ or something?” He hisses, rubbing the towel over Hyungwon’s head aggressively. “We have a tournament in two weeks! _Two weeks_ , Hyungwon! You _cannot_ get sick!”

“Or something.” Hyungwon mumbles lifelessly. He peers down at his clothes.

The tennis uniform the school had issued him was one size too small, and whenever he’d ask why, they’d give him different reasons. At first, it was because they somehow “ _made a mistake when his measurements were taken_ ”, and then it was because the shop they had ordered the uniforms from “ _did not have enough thread to create clothes his size_ ”. (Hyungwon was taller than most boys his age, and it sucked sometimes.)

He’s pretty sure the school was just constantly pulling out excuses for the fact that the uniforms the tennis team had received were the only available ones sitting around in their dusty storage, because they were too lazy to order new ones.

So not only were his clothes too small on him, but they were also wet and uncomfortable thanks to his habit of spacing out.

He wants to cry. “God. This is the _worst_.”

“It would have been _worse_ if you stayed out there a second longer,” Jooheon chastises, before moving to sit next to him angrily. “It’s already bad enough that coach is out of town, we can’t lose _you_ too.”

Jooheon was the team captain, so all the responsibilities their coach shouldered prior to his departure had automatically been passed down to him. He could see that the weight of the role was taking a huge toll on the younger, and it was already hard enough given the fact that he was consistently on the honor roll. It made Hyungwon feel bad all of a sudden for worrying over his clothes, when his friend was dealing with much heavier load.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, wiping the water off his face, “I’ll take medicine later, if that helps.”

The younger heaves a sigh of relief, then turns to direct a small smile at him. “Much appreciated. Thank you.”

They fall into silence not too long after. It wasn’t calm or comforting in any way—the rain was falling as if it hadn’t rained in their area for hundreds of years, and the thunder that crackles every now and again makes Jooheon jump and grip Hyungwon’s shoulder tightly (which he did _not_ enjoy). The warm air doesn’t do much to dry Hyungwon up either; all it manages to do is make him feel even grosser than a minute ago.

Hoseok clears his throat after a while. “ _So_. This doesn’t look like it’s going to stop any time soon…”

Hyungwon knows they’d all been unknowingly thinking the same thing, that the rain would subside after a few minutes. It’s almost funny how helpless they were in this situation.

“What do we do now?” He adds after he gets no reply.

Jooheon purses his lips. “Do you have anything in mind?”

“We can… go home?” Hyungwon suggests.

The other two immediately whip their heads around to look at him incredulously, as if what he had offered was the last thing they would want to do.

“Go… _home_ …?” Jooheon chokes out.

“I mean. Coach isn’t even here, and I doubt it’s gonna stop raining soon. It’s the only sensible option.”

“What part of ‘ _our tournament is in two weeks_ ’ do you not understand?”

“Two weeks is a long time!”

He realizes that saying that was a mistake when the captain’s eyes widen threateningly. “You did _not_ just say what I think you just said. You’re smarter than this.”

Hyungwon crosses his arms, frowning. “Okay, fine, _maybe_ it’s not a long time, but I’m sure it would be alright if we gave ourselves a day off. There’s literally nothing we can do in _this_ weather.”

“No, Wonnie, this isn’t the right time to be lazy.” Hoseok frowns, eyebrows furrowed. “We need all the training we can get! You can go back to hibernating once we’re set for nationals.”

Hyungwon throws his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “So what do _you_ suggest then? We can’t have a practice game on the fucking _bleachers_!”

“I say we brave the rain and continue on the court!” Hoseok exclaims, raising a fist almost passionately. “Like _real men_!”

The suggestion hangs awkwardly in the air. There’s nothing to be heard in the venue other than the heavy rain and the painful noise of Jooheon’s palm slapping his own forehead.

“Are you kidding me.” Hyungwon deadpans. “That’s even more stupid than _my_ idea.”

“I’ll actually kick you out of the team.” Jooheon seethes quietly, now pinching the bridge of his nose.

“H- _hey_!”

Hyungwon huffs. “See? There’s obviously no way around this. Let’s just head home and hope for the best for tomorrow.” He moves to stand up and retrieve his sports bag from the locker room, but is promptly pushed back down by the captain. “Wh—”

“No one’s leaving until I say so.” He commands strictly. “You’re all forgetting—there is still _one_ more possible solution to this.”

“And what would that be?”

“The only sane option, of course.” Jooheon says matter-of-factly, shrugging. ”We should approach Mr. Kim and ask him where we should relocate for the meantime. I’m sure he’d be able to find us a place.”

For a moment, the rain is all that is to be heard other than the whirring of the gears in Hyungwon’s mind.

He blinks. “That’s… actually not that bad.”

Hoseok nods in agreement. “I almost forgot he was our moderator.”

Hyungwon gasps, appalled. “He buys us dinner after competitions, you ungrateful bastard. Mr. Kim is a _godsend_.”

“I always thought he was just tagging along!”

Jooheon clears his throat. “Anyway, here’s the plan: one of us is going to take one for the team and run to the faculty office. Through the rain.”

They both turn to Hyungwon expectantly.

His heart stops in his chest. “What the—why _me_?”

Jooheon ignores the protest, and is instead staring at Hyungwon with curiosity. “My, this is the perfect plan.”

“He’s already drenched, so he has the least to lose.” Hoseok agrees, nodding to himself.

”Stop talking like I’m not here.”

”It’s decided then.” Jooheon smiles.

Hyungwon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you not _seeing_ this?” He gestures wildly to his body. “My immune system is complete shit—I’m the one most likely to get sick!”

“But you’re taking medicine later, right?” Jooheon reminds calmly. “You’ll be _fine_.”

Hyungwon shoots him a glare. “Why don’t _you_ go instead? You’re the driest among us!”

“All the more reason for me to stay under a _roof_.”

“I have no idea what kind of captain privileges you have, but I’m sure that’s not one of them. If anything, _you_ should be taking one for the team.”

“And risk catching a cold? No thanks.”

Hyungwon gasps. “Are you saying you’d rather _I_ catch a cold?“

“I mean… you’re already gonna get sick at the state you’re in, so might as well take advantage of the situation, right—“

“I swear to god, Lee Jooheon, I am _this_ close to sticking my racket up your a—“

“My men.” Hoseok interrupts calmly. He was now somehow standing in front of them, his hands on each of their nearest shoulders. “We are never going to decide on someone if we keep bickering.”

“It’s one of the only things we’re good at.” Hyungwon says bluntly.

“But that doesn’t mean we have to keep _doing_ it!”

Jooheon nods, lips pursed in a tight line. “He’s right. I honestly don’t know why I’m still wasting precious time arguing with you when we’ve all already made the unanimous decision of sending you to the faculty office.”

“Unanimous decision my _ass_ —”

“ _Hup_!” Hoseok raises a hand to silence them. “What we’re going to do is settle this… like _real men_.”

He sticks a fist in the space between them, a serious look on his face. Hyungwon and Jooheon immediately recognize the gesture—their expressions harden as they do the same. The only thing missing in this situation is the _Street Fighter_ soundtrack blasting in the background.

Hyungwon narrows his eyes. “You’re going to regret challenging me.”

After five rounds of a particularly intense rock, paper, scissors battle, it’s extremely clear who the loser is.

“Oh my god.” Hyungwon groans into his hands. “This can’t be.”

“You lost _all five rounds_.” Jooheon marvels incredulously, as if him managing to lose in all five was a feat.

“You both conspired against me!” He accuses, glaring at his two teammates. “I demand a rematch!”

“We aren’t mind-readers, Hyungwon.”

“That’s _exactly_ what a mind-reader would say.”

“We won fair and square, Wonnie.” Hoseok says. “Accept it. You lost.”

“Defeat is foreign to me. Failure is my arch nemesis.”

“Just go,” Jooheon pleads, pouting. “ _Please_. If I have to listen to any more of your stupid dramatics, I’m actually going to explode.”

Hyungwon rests his head in his hands, grumbling incoherently.

“I’ll even wash your tennis uniform for you.” The captain offers.

_Oh?_

Hyungwon is rendered excited by the idea, but he tries his best not to show it. “Will you use the vanilla-scented fabric softener?”

The product was imported from Europe, so Jooheon’s mom only ever used it on formal clothing. (The boy went to the school dance last year smelling like a _god_. Hyungwon was incredibly jealous.)

The captain rolls his eyes. “Ugh. My mom will kill me when she finds out, but _fine_. I’m desperate.”

“It’s a deal then.”

He stands up and brushes nonexistent dust off his tennis shorts. The gesture doesn’t do anything other than make the cloth stick to his thighs.

Hoseok’s jaw drops as he witnesses the whole scenario. “Unbelievable. Was that really all it took to get you to agree? A stupid bottle of _chemicals_?”

“Don’t underestimate the power of smelling good.” Hyungwon says smugly, at the same time that Jooheon mutters, “Hyungwon’s a simple-minded guy.”

He walks towards the edge of the shade, peering into the distance to survey how he should go about the situation. The main school building was a good distance away from the tennis court—near enough for him to get there in half a minute if he ran, but far enough for his now almost-dry self to be restored back to its drenched state.

“Be careful, okay.” Hoseok warns from behind him, concerned. “It would really suck if you bumped into a tree or fell into a ditch or something.”

“I _hope_ I do.” Hyungwon responds loudly, though it’s an empty wish. He didn’t want to look bad in his tournament photos. His tennis skills were mesmerizing, but his face? Even more so.

He makes his way out of the shade then runs as fast as he could towards the building, trying to ignore the gross feeling his wet socks give him. The rain makes it hard for him to see, so there was an incredibly high chance he might actually bump into a tree and land himself a visit to the nurse’s office.

“Seriously, don’t get hurt!” Jooheon calls after him, though it’s mostly drowned out by the rain. “You still owe me twenty!”

He realizes then that falling into a ditch might not be so bad an idea after all.

 

 

“Hyungwon, you’re _dripping_!”

He was standing in front of Mr. Kim, a tired and angry expression on his face as he hugged himself for warmth. The teacher’s paperwork had been abandoned in order to stare at Hyungwon’s state in shock, but the rest of the teachers don’t seem to care about the fact that there was a student messing up their floor. There’s a steaming mug of coffee sitting next to the pile of papers, and Hyungwon is half tempted to just grab it and empty it over his shivering body.

_Tell me something I don’t know, sir._

His teeth chatter relentlessly when the air conditioner directs cold air at him. Whoever set it to both swing mode _and_ the coldest setting was a _heathen_. The lowest of the low.

“S-sorry,” he manages to stammer, “I kind of just… r-ran through the rain. No— _no biggie_.”

Mr. Kim gives him a look, but decides not to question it. He runs a hand through his nonexistent hair. (It was a sad habit, Hyungwon noticed. He just recently started balding, so he was unfortunately still used to his hair being there.) “Why?”

“B-because I have no umbrella on me?”

Mr. Kim sighs. “No, Hyungwon. I meant… _why_ did you want to speak with me?”

“Um, because it’s… raining.”

The teacher furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“We have nowhere to practice, sir.” Hyungwon explains.

“What? Why?”

Hyungwon gives him a funny look. Was there something in his coffee? “… We kind of play in an _open court_.”

“ _Ah_!” Mr. Kim snaps his fingers, then runs his nails across his bottom lip in thought. “Of course.”

“Yeah, so,” Hyungwon begins awkwardly, “where do you suggest we practice, sir? For the meantime.”

The older seems to ponder for a moment (one _excruciatingly_ long moment, Hyungwon could swear he was about to start balding too) before he comes to a decision.

“Let me see what I can do.” He assures gently, wheeling his chair around.

Hyungwon heaves a grateful sigh. “ _Thank_ you, sir—“

“ _GUYS_!” He shouts at his co-teachers, hands cupped around his mouth to project his voice. “I need your help!”

A couple of acknowledging grunts sound from the other cubicles.

“Can any of you accommodate my tennis team for a while?” He yells. “Half a court would do!”

They see a hand suddenly shoot up from the farthest cubicle. “They can stay with my team, Mr. Kim!” The teacher yells back. “We have plenty of space!”

The teacher in question stands up, hand still raised in the air with a wide smile on his face, and Hyungwon immediately recognizes him to be Mr. Jeon, a math teacher.

A math teacher who also happened to be the moderator of the volleyball club.

The same volleyball club that practiced in the _gymnasium_.

Hyungwon feels a bead of sweat trickle down his face despite the cold air and his shivering body. _Oh, fuck no_. He thinks to himself, the horror beginning to dawn on him. _No, no, no._

“Perfect!” Mr. Kim exclaims as he claps his hands together, beaming. Hyungwon gapes at him in utter shock as he shoots a thumbs up at his co-teacher. “Thank you, Mr. Jeon!”

“It’s no problem!”

He wheels his chair back to face Hyungwon, a satisfied smile on his face. “Well! There you g—”

“ _Sir_!” Hyungwon interrupts in a well-practiced stage whisper. “Not the volleyball club. _Anything_ but the volleyball club. _Please_!”

The older frowns. “What’s wrong? You boys got beef with someone there?”

“N-no, we’re nice, it’s just…” He nervously casts a sidelong glance at the other teachers before he leans in slightly and lowers his voice, “the gymnasium _reeks_.”

It was the truth. He had been there once with Jooheon, who had been waiting for his best friend—a first-year named Changkyun—so they could walk home together. They hadn’t waited for too long, but it was unfortunately still more than enough time for him to catch a whiff of the absolutely _putrid_ scent of sweaty socks and expired salonpas. It was a horrible experience, Hyungwon had almost _fainted_.

Mr. Kim wrinkles his nose, then lowers his voice as well. “Okay, I’m not gonna lie to you—you’re right.”

“I’m really glad you understand, sir, so—“

“ _But_ ,” He calmly raises a hand, cutting Hyungwon off. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about it. Mr. Jeon’s venue is the only available one at the moment, and I can’t have you boys practice out in the rain.”

Hyungwon couldn’t breathe.

“Come on, it’s just for the meantime!” Mr. Kim reasons, smiling reassuringly before patting Hyungwon on the shoulder. He seems to think twice about the gesture, because he slowly peels his hand off then wipes it discreetly on his slacks. “It won’t rain _forever_!”

A clap of thunder decides to make itself known in that very moment, as if mocking them. The wind outside picks up and makes droplets of rain splatter almost aggressively against the windows. Hyungwon wants to cry.

“I-I guess we’ll manage,” He whispers, sniffling. _We’re going to drop dead the moment we step into the gym. There’s definitely something radioactive in the air there_. (He grimaces.) _It’s the stale sweat. And the damp, unwashed kneepads. Gross._

“That’s the spirit!” Mr. Kim booms happily.

“Hooray.” He cheers weakly. He can’t even manage a proper smile. How _could_ he when he was about to step into one big sweaty armpit?

“Alright, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I’m gonna need you to look for their team captain. Son Hyunwoo. He’s a year above you,” The teacher orders, turning back to his paperwork. “Tell him Mr. Jeon said that you boys could use the extra space.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

He decides not to complain further about the teacher’s decision and turns to leave, slouching sadly. Just thinking about his situation made him feel absolutely pathetic, and it didn’t help that the state he was currently in already made him _look_ pathetic.

“Good luck at the tournament!” The teacher calls at him, right before he slides the door to the office shut. He grunts noncommittally, knowing full well that it would end up unheard.

He wonders if he could still make a run for it, if he could just flee from school and all his tennis club responsibilities, right into the warmth of his bed at home. In his room that did _not_ smell like sweaty socks.

He trudges back to the tennis court, head hung in sadness. This was not his day at all.

 

 

“Oh man, oh man, oh _man_. I’m so glad Mr. Kim put us with the volleyball team.” Jooheon squeals, bouncing happily on his feet. “I was really hoping this would happen!”

They are currently standing in front of the doors to the gymnasium (which were _closed_ , much to Hyungwon’s relief), sports bags and school-provided backpacks by their feet. The windows lining the walls glow orange, shadows of both volleyballs and people occasionally zooming across. It looks less daunting externally—almost _calming_ , even—but Hyungwon knew his view would change immediately once Jooheon opened the door and subjected them all to the stink.

If he had the choice to just stand outside forever, he really would opt for that in a heartbeat. No questions asked.

“Okay, you get to see your best friend, but at what cost?” Hyungwon grumbles, sighing heavily. “The gym smells like cat piss that no one ever bothered cleaning up. My nose will actually fall right off my face.”

Jooheon frowns at him. “I’m gonna punch it off myself if you don’t shut up.”

Hyungwon gasps, offended. “ _Excuse_ m—“

He leaves no time for Hyungwon to retaliate before he pushes the doors open, exposing them all to the intense, disgusting smell of sweaty volleyball boys and protein drinks. (It was a terrible combination.)

The inside of the gymnasium is just as huge as its exterior suggests—the ceiling is high above their heads, far enough for it to never be hit by stray volleyballs even when served at incredible strengths. The vast space is home to two courts, one of which was being occupied by the members of the volleyball team, some of whom were in the middle of a practice game, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum as they scramble for the ball in a very organized fashion. The others were either cheering their teammates on or laying on the ground face-down in exhaustion. (Hyungwon gags at the idea of even pressing his face against such a dirty surface.)

There was no doubt the volleyball team was the pride and joy of the school. The gymnasium was fully equipped, well-lit, and even had _water fountains_ stationed almost everywhere (a real luxury)—it was just too bad the school didn’t care about them enough to have built in bigger windows and installed a better ventilation system. It was _incredibly_ stuffy, it’s no wonder the strong smell was never diffused by the air. Hyungwon is almost surprised the members could even _breathe_ during practice.

Hoseok gapes at the sight. “So _this_ is where half our tuition g—“ He cuts himself off, hurriedly pinching his nose shut and scrunching his face. “Oh… oh my god…”

Hyungwon blanches once the scent fully hits his senses. “Ah, fuck, there it is. _Ugh_ , I think I’m gonna faint.”

“This is so cool,” Jooheon whispers, awe-filled. Hyungwon hypothesizes that the captain was either really good at ignoring the stench, or just did not have a sense of smell at all. “It’s way bigger than the auditorium.”

Hyungwon doesn’t know how long they have been standing in front of the open doors, but he figures it’s been way longer than he thinks when a voice calls at them from inside, both surprise and confusion evident in his voice. “ _Jooheon_?”

The captain looks towards the source—a short boy sitting on one of the benches with a towel draped around his neck—before a smile makes its way across his face as his eyes light up in recognition. “ _Kyunnie_! Bro!” He jumps up and down, waving his hands in the air in excitement. This is the happiest Hyungwon has ever seen him in all their years of being teammates, it’s almost shocking.

Not much later, the boy in question is standing in front of them, a small smile present on his face even as he pants heavily. “What’s up?”

Hyungwon chuckles humorlessly, tugging at his friends’ sleeves—a silent plea for them to run away. “Nothing! We were just here to say hel—“

“ _Actually_ ,” Jooheon corrects, flicking Hyungwon’s hand off his shirt, a tight smile on his face, “we’re here because we have a huge favor. Sorry to bother, by the way.”

“It’s… okay,” Changkyun assures, raising an eyebrow at Hyungwon’s odd behavior. “I just asked to be subbed out not too long ago, so I wasn’t really doing anything.” He rests his weight against the doorframe. “So what’s up?”

“We need a place to practice since it’s raining and our stupid court doesn’t have a roof. Mr. Kim told us we could use the extra space here,” Jooheon explains, “but he told us to talk to someone here first. For formality’s sake, I guess.”

“Alright, who?”

“Your captain. The tall guy with the nice shoulders?”

“Oh, Hyunwoo?” Changkyun frowns, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, he’s actually not around today.”

Hyungwon is pretty sure he has never heard more beautiful words in his entire life.

“ _Oh_ , that sucks.” He interrupts slowly, trying to fight the victorious smile off his face. “I guess we’re gonna have to go and find another ven—“

“You’re in luck, though,” Changkyun interrupts, beaming, “our vice captain is here! I’ll call him over and you can talk to him instead.”

Hyungwon can hear his life crumbling to pieces. “Wh-what—“

“Nice! Thank you so much, Kyunnie.” Jooheon exclaims, mirroring his smile.

“It’s no problem.” Changkyun replies, shooting him a finger gun. He turns to shout into the gym. “ _Your highness!_ Get your ass over here!”

Then, amidst the obnoxious sound of squeaking sneakers and the ever-present scent of unwashed socks, Hyungwon’s eyes lock on who he could swear was the most _good-looking_ person in the room, if not the entire _school_.

A blond-haired boy looks over at them from his position on the court, knees still bent as he wipes sweat off his furrowed brows and pants heavily (which Hyungwon should _really_ not think was hot, but here he was anyway). He straightens, shouting something at his teammates before jogging his way towards them, a warm, small smile on his face.

Hyungwon could not breathe at all, and it wasn’t because of the stink this time, but because the vice captain was impossibly even more gorgeous _up close_.

His wavy hair was parted down the middle, kept away from his eyes by a thin sports headband. His face and his neck glisten with sweat, made all the more obvious by his heavy breathing. He had rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, showing everyone how sore his forearms had become after receiving volleyballs. Hyungwon notably does _not_ let his vision stray downwards and catch on the vice captain’s volleyball shorts, in fear that if he allowed himself to do so then he’d be subjecting himself to a staring competition with the other’s incredibly well-sculpted _thighs_. He can’t believe he’s even thinking about all of this.

The boy raises an eyebrow at Changkyun questioningly, smile still present on his face.

Changkyun sighs heavily, before rolling his eyes and turning to them. “ _This_ is His Royal Highness. Our vice captain—unfortunately.” He receives a painful smack on the back at the end of his thrown-in insult. He winces, then shoots a glare at his teammate. “The tennis club is here to ask you something. Please don’t be weird.”

The other grins widely then, and oh god, oh _fuck_ , Hyungwon actually _feels_ his lungs give up the very moment his gaze settles on what he deemed to be the cause of his incoming demise.

The vice captain had _braces_. Actual pieces of metal in his mouth that glinted while he smiled and made him look way cuter than he already was; it was _incredibly_ uncalled for, and Hyungwon and his dropped jaw did not appreciate it in the slightest.

He suddenly feels all the more pathetic in his drenched, one-size-too-short tennis uniform.

“Thank you, dearest Changkyunnie.” The blond says sweetly. “Go sit. I’ll take it from here.”

Once the younger has stepped away and gone back to where he was sitting prior to their conversation, Minhyuk turns back to them, beaming. “Hello! I’m Minhyuk, vice captain.” He sticks a hand out for a handshake to no one in particular. He probably wasn’t familiar with who their captain was. “Sorry you have to talk to me instead of Hyunwoo today.”

Jooheon smiles warmly, moving to shake the other’s hand. “It’s perfectly alright. I’m Joo—“

“ _Hyungwon_!” He blurts out suddenly, unable to stop himself from doing so.

A wave of complete silence washes over the small group as all heads turn to him. His heart drops to his knees as he notes that Minhyuk’s eyes had widened just the slightest bit, clearly taken aback and unsure of how to deal with the sudden turn of events.

The look on Jooheon’s face says it all: _what the fuck are you doing?_

His own face probably conveys his own message as well; his eyes are wide and his face had paled: _what the fuck_ am _I doing?_

He decides to stand his ground, because his dignity was already far out of reach, and he highly doubts there is any other way to redeem himself.

“Hyungwon,” He repeats awkwardly, slapping Jooheon’s hand away so he could shake Minhyuk’s hand instead, “is, uh, my name. Hello. To you too.”

Much to his relief, the vice captain takes his hand, a small smile on his face as he tilts his head in curiosity. “Nice to meet you, Hyungwon.”

“Same. I mean, uh, it’s my pleasure... yeah.”

His teammates gape at him in utter shock. Jooheon’s hand hangs in the air, and Hoseok looks as if he’s seen a ghost, face pale and eyes comically wide.

Minhyuk’s smile widens as he lets go of Hyungwon’s hand. “I take it you’re the captain?”

“ _Vice_ captain, actually,” he corrects. (It’s a lie. Hyungwon lies when he comes into contact with cute boys.)

Jooheon gives him a look, then hisses under his breath, “dude, what the fuck, we don’t even _have_ a vice cap—“

Hyungwon slaps his teammate’s shoulder to shut him up, all the while maintaining a tight smile. _We do now_.

“That’s so cool! I’m glad we share the same struggle!” Minhyuk exclaims in awe, clapping his hands together. He regards Hyungwon with a shine in his eyes, and it’s suddenly too much for his small, gay heart to handle. “We vice captains really have to stick together—we’re just as important as the bigger guys!”

Hyungwon gulps, then chuckles nervously. “Ha-ha, yeah. Totally. I relate so much.”

Hoseok snorts next to him.

Before Hyungwon has the chance to silently promise him his impending doom in the form of cooking oil poured over the handle of his racket, Minhyuk beams sweetly at him. “So, Changkyunnie said you were here to ask something? I’m assuming you’re not just here to say hi,” he laughs, then casually leans against the doorframe, “but if that were the case, I wouldn’t really mind.”

He’s looking right at Hyungwon when he says that, and perhaps it’s just his raging hormones or the slight smirk on the vice captain’s face that makes him think there was _definitely_ something going on here. It can’t be mere delusion. He physically feels his brain short-circuit.

“A-actually, our usual training spot got rained over and we need a place to practice. Mr. Jeon sent us here, but we had to inform you about it first.” It’s a miracle he even managed to deliver that entire sentence without stammering. “The space here is quite lovely.”

Jooheon guffaws next to him. “That wasn’t what you were saying ten minutes ag—”

“It’s humongous. Very spacious. Well-equipped.”

“It really is!” Minhyuk agrees, nodding enthusiastically. “We never even use the other half of the space, honestly, so I’ll let you guys have it. It’s completely yours for as long as you need.”

Hoseok gasps. “You’re a saint.” He remarks.

“You’re an _angel_.” Hyungwon whispers, quivering.

“But!” Minhyuk adds, raising a finger. “On one condition.”

“Anything.”

The vice captain grins. “You three will help us clean up after every practice.”

Suddenly, the horrid stench is the least of Hyungwon’s worries. “Deal.”

His teammates gasp.

Minhyuk squeals. “Perfect! You have my utmost gratitude.” He pats Hyungwon’s shoulder before he beckons for them to enter with a quick tilt of his head. “Follow me then. Let’s get your court set up.”

The other walks off towards the extra space, heading for the net. Hyungwon couldn’t do anything other than watch dumbly. (He averts his gaze _immediately_ as soon as his eyes catch on spandex.)

He doesn’t realize that he’s been staring at a blank wall for quite a while until Hoseok waves a hand in front of his face. “Earth to Wonnie.”

He blinks, shaking himself out of his trance. “I, uh, huh?”

Hoseok turns to Jooheon, a grim expression on his face. “I think he lost his ability to speak.”

Jooheon huffs. “I always knew he was defective.”

“Did you guys not… _see_ that?” Hyungwon splutters, appalled.

“See what?”

“ _That_! That—” He gestures wildly. “ _Messiah_. Adonis. Whatever you call him!”

“I’m pretty sure Jesus was taller than that,” Jooheon replies, “and we call him Minhyuk.”

“Is he in our year? How have I never seen him before?”

“Why are you so interested?”

Hyungwon ignores the query, far too immersed in his thoughts. “Jooheon. I’m scared. I think I have a thing for _volleyball shorts_ now.” His eyes shake. “Fuck.”

“Wh—volleyball shorts? I mean, he’s cool. I guess.”

Complete silence.

“ _My guy_ …” Hyungwon begins hollowly, reaching for his shoulders. “You don’t know what’s up. You _never_ know what’s up. It’s such a pity.”

The captain snorts. “I’d rather be unaware than be _fully_ aware and still fuck up by lying about being a vice captain.”

Hoseok inhales sharply. “Oh shit.”

Hyungwon glares at him, offended. “How _dare_ you.”

“You’re forgetting your place, Hyungwon. You may be the _self-proclaimed vice captain_ , but—“

Hyungwon smacks a hand over Jooheon’s mouth, lowering his voice. “I know, okay?” He hisses, cheeks dusted pink. “You better not talk about it here, _Heony_ , or you might just wake up one day with a racket up your ass—”

“Hyungwon! Uh, you two! I need some help with the net!” Minhyuk calls from inside, hands cupped around his mouth to amplify the sound.

“We’ll be right there!” Hyungwon yells back. He turns back to Jooheon, his eyes promising hell and suffering as he drops his hand. The other is smiling cheekily at him, dimples on full display as he chortles.

Hoseok’s situation is not that different—he’s obviously trying very hard to hold back his own laughter. Hyungwon shoots him a glare as well, for good measure, before pivoting on his heel to follow Minhyuk in.

 

 

“So. How tall is your net supposed to be?”

Minhyuk is standing next to him and tilting his head up just the slightest bit to look at the net, hands on his hips and bottom lip jutting out pensively.

Jooheon and Hoseok had headed straight for the benches and left him alone to deal with the net, with the excuse of having to “set up”, which normally shouldn’t even take more than two minutes. (He’s positive it’s been way longer than that.)

“Right by the hips.” Hyungwon replies automatically.

He doesn’t realize his selfish mistake until Minhyuk gives him a look, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “Not everyone is blessed with height, _Greg_.”

Hyungwon gasps, a brilliant pink dusting his cheeks. “Oh, fuck, sorry. That slipped, I-I didn’t mean—“

Minhyuk breaks the feigned angry exterior with a breathy laugh. Hyungwon doesn’t know what to do other than shift awkwardly from one foot to another and desperately try not to break down where he stands over the way someone _laughs_.

“I was just pulling your leg, I really don’t mind!” His expression shifts into one of determination. “Though I _am_ aiming to grow a few centimeters before the year ends.”

“It’s, uh, the middle of September.”

“If there’s a will, there’s a way.” Minhyuk says in a low voice. “And I have _plenty_ of will.”

Hyungwon couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. The other beams at him, a hint of pride in his expression.

“Anyway, right by your hips? That’s, like, around my waist right?” He frowns, then inhales deeply before making for the pole on the left side. “You take the other end.”

Hyungwon walks towards the end he would be adjusting, thankful that he now at least had a legitimate and tangible distraction from the vice captain. The only downside was that he had ended up having to take care of the side right beside the benches and the scoreboard, therefore subjecting him to his teammates’ relentless teasing.

Jooheon gapes at him, almost dropping the towels he was about to set on a chair. “I can’t believe this. Chae Hyungwon? Doing actual labor _other_ than practice games?”

Hyungwon’s hands freeze halfway through untying the knot keeping the net attached to the pole. “Don’t patronize me.” He turns back to the net and tugs helplessly at the rope, whining. “Who the fuck tied this knot?”

It doesn’t take him too long to untie it; the knot had come loose eventually, but only after he heavily considered just borrowing Hoseok’s safety scissors and cutting it off the pole to get the job done quicker. He heaves a sigh, then decides to be a gentleman and help Minhyuk out when he faintly hears the boy curse under his breath.

“Need he—“ He chokes on his words the moment he sees.

Clearly, Minhyuk was only being stubborn forcing himself to help out with the net when he was a tad bit too _short_ to reach for the topmost portion without standing on his tiptoes—but it wasn’t that part that bothered him. Let the boy do as he damn well pleases, Hyungwon believes, so long as he does not cause him to greet his raging hormones once more.

It’s in this moment that Hyungwon realizes two things: a) the world is indeed very cruel, _merciless_ and unforgiving; and b) it is definitely illegal to look that good in volleyball shorts.

The boy was merely standing on his tiptoes and struggling to untie the first knot, but Hyungwon’s mind was going haywire noticing things that were definitely _not_ meant for someone to notice, such as the way a thin white t-shirt rides up just the tiniest bit to expose way more skin than needed, and how a pair of spandex shorts manage to make what was obviously a pancake-flat ass look perky and _cute_. (Hyungwon physically feels every single one of his brain cells deteriorate at the acknowledgment of that last part.)

And as if even _thinking_ about it wasn’t already enough, the universe decides to make him actually _do_ something while his mind was completely fried, which would end up being—as anyone may guess—a complete disaster.

He trips on his own feet and face-first into the net he had been holding up, the material only slightly softening the painful thud of his forearms against the ground. “ _Fuck_ —“

Instead of seeing his life flash before his eyes, his own subconscious speaks: _You idiot. You absolute fucking cretin. You really did it this time_.

He blacks out for a moment out of both shock and embarrassment; the only things his mind can register are a gasp from his left followed by frantic footsteps and—he notes with disdain—the obnoxious guffawing of his good-for-nothing teammates from his right.

“ _Hyungwon_! Oh my god,” Minhyuk exclaims, pulling him by the shoulders and helping him sit upright. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Hyungwon can’t even bring himself to look the other in the eye. _Oh yeah, I’m good, I was just staring at your ass_. “Uh,” he wracks his brain for a reasonable excuse, “a cold breeze startled me. I’m fine.”

A beat of silence.

“...breeze?”

Hyungwon blinks, confused, before it dawns on him.

All the fucking windows and doors in the venue were _shut_.

He opens his mouth, throat dry, but finds that no excuse is making itself known to him right now. He couldn’t blame the AC units, because they weren’t even on in this particular area. There couldn’t have been a gust of wind no matter how hard you try to prove it.

If Minhyuk picks up on his show of stupidity, he doesn’t comment on it. “Oh well. Could have ended worse.” He grins sweetly at Hyungwon and holds out a hand.

It turns out to be incredibly difficult for Hyungwon to avoid noticing how the light glints off the other’s braces and makes his smile look way brighter than it already is, and how it seems to create some sort of halo effect around his head. He was _glowing_ , emanating an almost angelic aura—Hyungwon must have knocked his head against the ground somehow and ascended to the heavens.

He takes the hand and pulls himself up, palm embarrassingly clammy. “Thanks.”

He honestly never imagined that the one time he’d be privileged enough to hold Minhyuk’s hand would be in a situation as shameful as this.

The other beams at him, hands now resting on his hips. “Now that we’ve confirmed that your arms are still fully functional, can you, uh, help me out with my side?” He chuckles sheepishly. “I mean, not that I _can’t_ reach it or anything, you know, because I totally can. On most days. Usually.”

He narrows his eyes at his sneakers for half a second, but the action doesn’t go unnoticed. Hyungwon guesses that maybe insoles played a very relevant role in the vice captain’s life. He almost replies that Minhyuk must be a damn good volleyball player if he was able to become a vice captain regardless of his height, but the conversation that comment would spark _definitely_ wouldn’t end well. “Of course. Didn’t doubt that for a second.”

Minhyuk flashes him a grateful smile. “You know what, I think you and I will get along very well.”

Hyungwon’s heart drops to his knees at the remark, a light whooping feeling in his stomach pleasantly accompanying it—it persists even as they’re both working together to finish the task at hand, but nice as it was he still wills it away. He’s only known the boy for _fifteen_ minutes, for god’s sake, he really needs to learn to control his hormonal urges.

Later, when they are finished and Minhyuk has already gone back to his team to participate in the practice match (“ _my babies are nothing without me, the team is probably crumbling as we speak_ ”), Hyungwon sits on one of the chairs next to the scoreboard and stares at the wall opposite him, only barely registering Jooheon and Hoseok stepping onto the court for a match. He presses his lips into a thin line as his teeth chatter, only now realizing that even room-temperature air was a threat to wet clothing sticking to a person’s body.

He is shaken from his daze by a spray of water to his face. “Wh— _hey_!”

When his vision clears, a very unperturbed Jooheon is standing in front of him, towel around his neck and water bottle in hand. He had been too lost in thought—or in the lack thereof—to note that time had passed; he hadn’t even noticed that their practice match was done.

Hyungwon narrows his eyes, only slightly annoyed because he had already been in the process of drying up, but someone just _had_ to ruin it. “What?”

“I’ve called your name five times now.”

He blinks. “Oh. And so?”

Jooheon gives him a look: ‘ _Really?_ ’ He sighs, then takes a seat right beside him. It doesn’t look like he’s going to explain what he meant, so Hyungwon is left looking at him awkwardly until he averts his gaze at the lack of a reply. They watch Hoseok practice his ball control.

It seems to be an eternity before the captain clears his throat. “You know, it isn’t like you to be acting this way.”

Hyungwon opens his mouth to protest, but Jooheon interrupts. “Actually, scrap that. It _is_ like you to be acting this way. Oh my god.”

“... Elaborate?”

Jooheon turns to him. “This is how you get every time you see a cute boy.”

Hyungwon launches into an intense coughing fit. Hoseok drops his racket in surprise, and Jooheon starts snickering. “Ex… excuse me—? No— _I’m_ —!“

“It’s really fascinating,” He continues with no remorse whatsoever, “I remember very clearly the first time you saw Hoseok changing back when we were trying out for the team. It’s like you had a partial meltdown, and I doubt you were fully conscious when you told him how you felt about his ches—“

“Hoseok was a _phase_!” Hyungwon whispers aggressively, desperate to get Jooheon to shut up. He glances around frantically, gaze lingering on the volleyball team to see if Minhyuk had, by some miracle, heard how much of a loser he was. (He hadn’t, much to his relief.) When he looks back at Jooheon, the boy is shooting him a knowing smile. _Goddammit_. “A phase!”

“Doesn’t change the fact that it happened.”

“Well, it’s never going to happen again!” Hyungwon rubs the bridge of his nose, blush rapidly erupting across his cheeks. “Hoseok and I talked it out already a long time ago. He said he’s used to people complimenting him or whatever, and I didn’t even like him _that_ way anyway. God, this is so embarrassing.”

Jooheon chortles. “Are you saying your feelings are different this time around?”

Hyungwon gapes at him, insulted. “What do you take me for?” He splutters. “I’ve known him for an _hour_ at most!”

“Hey now, I was just putting it out there. Didn’t mean to offend you.” The captain smiles slyly, patting him on the back then gesturing towards the court with the quick tilt of his head. _Your turn to practice._ “It wouldn’t be bad to have a boyfriend be your source of motivation, you know. That would be so sweet; you can even post mushy paragraphs on facebook about how you attend each other’s games and—”

Hyungwon groans. “An _hour_ , Jooheon. And I’m not that desperate.”

“You can’t be in a relationship with _the hustle_ forever.”

“Only white people say that.”

Jooheon rolls his eyes. “You get where I’m coming from.”

He twists his mouth, trying to find something appropriate to use as a reply, then sighs when nothing comes to mind. He settles for something more blunt before he stands to prepare for the match: “This won’t last long.”

"We’ll see about that!” Jooheon calls at his retreating figure. Hyungwon seriously considers pushing through with that racket plan.

They were only going to be in this shared space for a week or two at most. What could possibly happen within that period?

His wayward gaze unknowingly falls on the volleyball team on the other side, then subsequently locks on a certain blond-haired player in the midst. It seems to be that his team had won the set, because his teammates were crowding around him, ruffling his hair and pinching his cheeks—all while he had the widest smile on his face, radiant even from such a distance.

He definitely does _not_ want to entertain the sudden feeling of furious butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. Hell no. Absolutely disgusting.

He grits his teeth as he tries to get his focus back to warming up. _Attraction is a construct!_

That reminder puts him at ease. This really _is_ just a phase. He’s going to survive two weeks here just fine.

(He hopes.)

**Author's Note:**

> not that anyone asked but minhyuk is heavily based on the man, the myth, the legend himself: oikawa tooru


End file.
